So It Goes
by Witchy Bee
Summary: Nothing has ended except the war, and no ending has to be a happy one. Life goes on. -Luna/Neville, Harry/Ginny, Ron/Hermione-
1. Funerals & Supper

**A/N: **You'll notice a few alterations I made, mostly for the sake of the story and realism. Should I continue it? I don't know. Maybe it will be a two-shot. Leave a review if you would be so kind.

_Battle of Hogwarts known Order of the Phoenix casualties:_

_approximately sixty_

Harry woke up knowing he would be expected to attend two funerals today: one service for Lavender Brown, and one for Colin Creevey. He also knew that he owed it to them. Everyone had lost friends and family, but how many years had past since Harry didn't watch someone die? Four years now, all punctuated by at least one death. Cedric, Sirius, Dumbledore, Snape...

What a self-centered thought. He should be used to it.

Fred's funeral was yesterday. That'd been hard. George kept saying what a dull party it was, and that there ought to be fireworks. Then the last Weasley twin held his wand up to the bruise-colored sky and set off some sparks, tears streaming down his cheeks.

"It's what he wants," George said softly. Everyone broke down, because present tense hurt so much. Ginny clung to Harry for a long time in the graveyard.

She wasn't here now. She must be awake already, drinking her third cup of coffee. That sounded quite appealing, actually. Somehow he always found a reason to get out of bed every morning, even if that reason was coffee, and this never failed to surprise him. Harry put on a black robe without thinking about it.

"Good morning," Ginny said, not because it was true, but merely the thing to say. Harry kissed her, because it was merely the thing to do. Coffee, sure enough.

"You don't have to go," he said quietly. "After yesterday...I mean, it wasn't easy for you..."

"It wasn't easy for anyone, Harry. It wasn't easy watching them bury Remus and Tonks, seeing their baby..." Her voice died away for a moment before she said firmly: "I know I have a choice, but I'm still going to every funeral."

"As long as you're sure." Merlin, she was so strong...

"By the way, Mum invited everyone for supper tonight at the Burrow."

"Who's everyone?"

"So far it's just Mum, Dad, George, Neville, Luna, Hermione and Ron. Plus you and me, obviously."

"It'll be good to see them again." Harry said thoughtfully.

"Yeah, it will be."

)O(

The Burrow: one of those places that felt like home even if you didn't live there. It could be the presence of family, the aroma of a comforting meal, or simply the way you knew you were loved unconditionally and always welcome. Molly looked tired and her eyes were red, but she smiled and hugged him.

"Oh Harry," Mrs. Weasley breathed, pulling back from the embrace but keeping her hands on his shoulders. She studied him as if she couldn't believe he was alive. It had only been a few hours since they saw each other. But that was different: someone's funeral.

"Hi, Mrs. Weasley." Harry smiled.

"Could you please set the table, dear?"

He did so while Ginny, Neville and Mr. Weasley chatted away. It was what passed for normal conversation these days, such as _Daily Prophet_ headlines, the Ministry's current state, etc.

"Lucius Malfoy got twenty years in Azkaban," Arthur supplied. "Personally I don't think it's enough."

"Can't blame a Dementor for not wanting to Kiss him." George said darkly. Everyone fell silent, unsure if they should laugh.

"What about his wife and son?" Molly wondered.

"Draco is going to trial next week, apparently to determine whether any charges should be pressed." Arthur replied. "Narcissa will probably be let off with a year's probation since she isn't officially a Death Eater and switched sides at the last second."

Mrs. Weasley had disappeared into the kitchen.

"Bellatrix Lestrange is dead." Neville said flatly. They all knew this, of course, since the woman currently preparing their supper had killed her. The world seemed like a far better place without Bellatrix around to hurt people, such as Neville's parents.

Mrs. Weasley scurried through the living room, opened the front door wide, and smothered Hermione and Ron in a great hug.

"Let them breathe, Molly," Arthur chuckled.

"How was the honeymoon?" Harry asked, smiling freely for the first time in six months.

"Amsterdam is beautiful!" Hermione exclaimed, barely able to control her excitement. "They have the largest library in Europe there, you know."

"I didn't know. That's really great, Hermione."

"How have you been?" she asked quietly, while Ron began catching up with his family.

Harry shrugged. "I'm fine."

"I've known you for years," Hermione said severely. "You're not fine. Are things okay with you and Ginny?"

He lowered his voice to a desperate whisper. "Can we please talk about this later? My life isn't falling apart right now and I'd really like to just eat a delicious meal and have a normal evening with my friends, all right?"

Hermione relented at the force of his honesty. "All right, I understand."

Luna arrived not long afterward, her blond hair tangled and mismatched socks on her feet. She carried a large bag filled with the latest issue of _The Quibbler_.

"Hello, everyone," she greeted, a distinct sadness present in that dreamy tone. "Would anyone like to buy a copy of the latest _Quibbler_? It's my only source of income at the moment."

Neville immediately handed over a whole thirty galleons. _I'm mad for her, Harry..._

"Supper's ready!" Molly called from the dining room.

Once everyone had been seated and served generous portions, a silence came over them, broken only by the scraping of forks. Harry realized how much he'd missed this. Such a simple thing, too, food and good company. Sometimes he forgot they won the war. It seemed wrong to be happy again.

No one had noticed, but George was shaking with silent fury.

"Doesn't anyone else care?" he demanded. "We buried Fred yesterday! Where the hell were you, Ron? Huh?"

"George, please don't..." Molly begged.

"No! I want him to answer me!" the grief-stricken Weasley shouted. "Why weren't you there? What was so much more bloody important than your own brother's funeral? It broke Mum's heart!"

Suddenly Luna jumped up from the table and bolted out of the back door. Neville chased after her. Meanwhile, Ron just stared down at his plate.

"I didn't go because..." he answered slowly, shakily. "I couldn't bear it, okay? I couldn't handle that. I'm a coward. I'm really sorry, George...Mum...Dad...Ginny...I just can't..."

Supper ended abruptly. No one felt very hungry anymore. George fled the house, despite his mother's protests; she didn't think he ought to apparate while so upset. Ginny and Mrs. Weasley cleared dishes away, Neville and Luna seemed inclined to remain outside for sometime, so it came down to the three of them sitting alone. The Golden Trio together again.

Arthur wordlessly set a bottle of firewhiskey on the table, and walked away.

"I don't think you're a coward, Ron," Harry said.

"Thanks, mate. But I am."

"_No_, you're _not_," Hermione insisted, grasping his hands and kissing them. "I love you."

)O(

Luna sobbed gently. Every tear broke Neville's heart. He sat beside her in the grass, wishing he was confident enough to find whatever words she needed to hear.

"Hi, Neville," the Ravenclaw sniffed. "You should know you overpaid for that _Quibbler_."

"No, I didn't." He looked away, blushing. "Remember how some people at school called you 'Loony' Lovegood? Well, um, I sort of had a nickname for you as well..."

"Oh?"

"Yes, it was...uh...Lovely Lovegood. Hah. Bit redundant, I suppose, now that I've said it aloud."

Luna blinked. She'd stopped crying. "I'm flattered, Neville, but I don't think it's wise to rush into anything. We have time now, you see? Ron and Hermione, Harry and Ginny: they got married so soon after the war ended. It's not over yet."

"What isn't?" he asked softly.

"Life, of course," Luna gave him this sad, brilliant smile. "Life goes on for us."

"I'm sorry about your dad."

"Yes, I've been quite lonely," she admitted, allowing him to place an arm around her shoulder and embrace her. They watched as daylight yielded to full on dusk. There was a slight chill in the early autumn air.

There were no endings.


	2. Trial & Tea

**A/N:** There will be more to this story. I've had considerable trouble writing this one, and I've had to do a lot of research.

)O(

While the accused had to be almost loopy on so much Veritaserum, individuals testifying were only required to swear an oath with one simple magical component. If you lied, your eyes changed color. Harry hadn't set foot in a Ministry courtroom since his hearing after saving Dudley from those Dementors three years ago. Of course, this trial was not for him.

They brought in Malfoy, his hands shackled with magical chains. He was pale, sleep deprived, with an expression of relaxed incomprehension on his face and a strange hazy look in his eyes. That's what truth-telling serums did. Questions bypassed one's ears, and before the brain even had time to generate a plausible lie, you find your mouth has already answered. If the truth must be known, this method at least seemed more humane than torture or the threat of losing one's soul.

_Ron hadn't approved of this. "How can you defend that Slytherin bastard after everything he's done?"_

_"This isn't about him, Ron," Harry had replied. "It's about the truth."_

_"Yeah, and the truth is he's a bloody Death Eater!"_

_"I don't think he really believed in his family's pureblood mania. He was afraid of what his father and Voldemort would do if he disobeyed, especially at the end. He wanted to prove himself to them."_

_"That all sounds like a lot of rubbish speculation to me," Ron snapped. "Your psycho-analysis of Malfoy won't save him from Azkaban, you know. He's guilty."_

_"I know. He knows it, too. But no one serves the Dementor's Kiss, not even Voldemort."_

_Ron had stared before breaking off into nervous laughter. "I reckon he didn't have much of a soul to suck out in the first place."_

Now Harry was waiting to testify on Draco Malfoy's behalf in front of a courtroom packed full with Aurors and members of the Wizengamot, including interim Minister Kingsley Shacklebolt, who everyone knew would be elected permanently and made no secret of his plan to stop the use of Dementors as punishment. It was about time, in Harry's opinion; what a barbaric practice...

He wished more than anything that Dumbledore could be here.

"Ladies and gentlemen," Kingsley began. "We are here to determine ii criminal charges should be brought against Draco Malfoy, alleged Death Eater, specifically in terms of his sixth year at Hogwarts."

"You can't do this!" Narcissa wailed from the crowd somewhere behind Harry. "He was underage!"

"Which is why he is being given a fair trial, Mrs. Malfoy," Kingsley said. "These are unusual circumstances."

A rather ancient-looking witch turned to Draco then. "What is your name?" she asked in a clear voice.

"Draco Lucius Malfoy."

"And are you a Death Eater, Draco?"

"Yes." He automatically rolled up his sleeve to reveal the scar where his Dark Mark had been. A few people gasped, but not many. This was hardly news.

"Why did you become a Death Eater?"

"Father was imprisoned in Azkaban; I had to take his place. The Dark Lord would kill my family if he thought even one of us was disloyal to him. I wanted to prove myself."

"To Voldemort?" the witch asked, barely flinching as she spoke the name.

"To my father."

"And you were assigned a very important task?"

"Yes."

"What was that task?"

"Killing Albus Dumbledore."

"That's attempted murder he's just confessed to! We are getting nowhere! Lock him up immediately!" a man shouted. "He gave a cursed necklace to my daughter! Ask him about that!"

"It was meant for Dumbledore," Draco answered flatly.

"Sit down, Mr. Bell, or you will be removed from this courtroom," Kingsley said.

The man, who Harry assumed to be Katie Bell's dad, took his seat but continued glaring at Malfoy.

The witch cleared her throat. "Mr. Malfoy, you intended to kill Albus Dumbledore?"

"Yes," Draco replied in a monotone. "I had to, or the Dark Lord would kill me. Dumbledore said I had a choice, but I didn't want his help. I couldn't do it."

"We now know that Severus Snape killed Dumbledore because he was already dying from a slow but fatal curse," added a small wizard. "This is not up for debate."

"However, on that night Mr. Malfoy did use a vanishing cabinet to unleash Death Eaters into the school, including the werewolf Fenrir Greyback."

"I didn't know he would be with them," Draco said, a hint of emotion creeping into his voice.

Harry listened as every detail of the Slytherin's dark past was painstakingly analyzed, searching for a glimmer of truth in the same way one might crack an egg.

Most of the Wizengamot was now looking at him with expressions of confirmed guilt. They were ready to sentence him to life in Azkaban, or worse...the Kiss.

"Malfoy did those things, yes, but he did them out of fear," said a voice, which Harry was shocked to realize was his own. "If you convict him, you might as well convict everyone who didn't stand up to Voldemort directly. They had families to protect, and so did he. The only difference is that he took a Dark Mark in order to protect them. I know it's unprecedented, and Malfoy should be punished for what happened to Katie Bell, but Azkaban isn't the way."

"Thank you, Mr. Potter, that's quite enough," the ancient-looking witch sighed. "The Wizengamot will now deliberate."

)O(

Ever since she had let Neville comfort her in the Weasleys' garden and walk her home, he couldn't get Luna Lovegood out of his head. He needed to see her again. Would it be awkward to just turn up at her house? Of course, why would Luna have time for Neville Longbottom?

It took three days to find the nerve. Some Gryffindor he was.

When she opened the door, the first thing he noticed was her necklace; it featured a stone enchanted to track a real dragonfly, which currently flew in a meadow somewhere.

"Hello, Neville," Luna greeted dreamily.

"Hi, Luna. You, um, look very pretty."

"Thank you. Would you like to come in?"

He nodded and followed her inside. While Luna disappeared into the kitchen to put on a kettle of tea, Neville made himself comfortable in an overstuffed chair, studying the moving pictures on the mantlepiece. Most of them featured a much younger Luna with her late father and a beautiful woman Neville assumed was her mother. He didn't know what it felt like to lose one's parents permanently, but it couldn't be worse than having parents who didn't remember their own son.

"Tea is ready," Luna called. He stood up and entered the small kitchen, which was painted cheerfully and filed with sunlight.

"What are those empty jars for?"

"Oh, they're not empty," she smiled. "These are invisible creatures, you know. Sugar? Cream? I also have some wildflower honey."

"Uh, just a little sugar," he replied nervously. "Thanks."

They sat down to drink their tea, and Neville realized he would explode if he didn't tell her everything.

"Are you okay? There's no reason to feel shy around me. We're friends."

"Right, sure," he muttered, rubbing the back of his neck. "Listen, um...I can't stop thinking about you. Luna, during the battle I promised myself I'd tell you, and I know you said we shouldn't rush things. I completely agree! Luna, these past few months have been hell. Between visiting my parents in the lunatic ward at St. Mungo's, attending my friends' funerals, and studying herbology...I haven't had time to process it all! Then I saw you and I thought..."

"Neville, calm down," Luna urged. "You'll spill your tea."

"I'm sorry." He put his head in his hands. This was going perfectly. Why not show the woman you love that you're a complete nervous wreck? She was too good for him anyway. No way she would ever settle for Neville Longbottom.

"I'd like very much to have supper with you tomorrow night," Luna declared suddenly. "Assuming you aren't just being nice to me because I told you I've been lonely recently."

"What? You...would?"

"Yes, Neville. I think you're very sweet."

He blinked. "Really?"

"Yes, silly," Luna gave him one of those smiles he lived for. "Now drink your tea before it gets cold."

)O(

The only sound was the Court Scribe's quill scribbling. As the Veritaserum wore off, Malfoy's default smug expression returned. He wasn't a bad person, Harry noted if he looked at the situation objectively. Sure, he'd done bad things to Harry and Hermione and loads of other people, but he wasn't mad like his _aunt_, Bellatrix Lestrange, nor was he like Voldemort. Honestly, what could anyone do at sixteen when they're being pressured to kill and commit themselves to a cause they have been raised to believe in? When the most powerful Dark Wizard of all time could destroy your family? When you're desperate for Lucius Malfoy's cold love and approval? What would you do?

"Draco Lucius Malfoy," a stern witch spoke, looking down her nose at him. "It is not the Wizengamot's belief that a person barely of age should be sent to Azkaban, even if said person is a Death Eater. You refused to carry out the immoral deed trusted to you when it really counted, and we take into consideration the fact that you were motivated by fear of Voldemort's wrath. After viewing the memories you submitted for our analysis and hearing both yours and Mr. Potter's testimony, we have decided to let you off with a three year probationary period, during which time any criminal activies will result in the court being far less lenient."

"This is an outrage!" Mr. Bell jumped to his feet, red in the face. "He traumatized my daughter! I demand justice! Are you people mad?"

"Please escort Mr. Bell out," Kingsley sighed. "And someone unchain Mr. Malfoy and return his wand to him."

That was how a young man got a second chance or a Death Eater evaded justice, depending on what newspaper you read.

"Come, Draco," Narcissa said quietly, taking her son's arm. "Let's go home before the angry mob is set upon us."


	3. Marriage & Dating

**A/N: **I have listened to your reviews and thus worked a little of Draco's perspective into this chapter. There will be more, of course. Your reviews do make all the difference, so if there's something you liked or would like to see, let me know!

)O(

"How could you possibly defend that monster?" Ginny demanded, her arms folded across her chest. Harry knew exactly what this meant.

"I already got the same lecture from Ron."

"But you _still _helped a murderer go free."

"He's _not _a murderer," Harry pointed out. "I don't think he could ever kill anyone. Malfoy was as powerless as you were when Tom Riddle's diary—"

"Don't you dare!" she shouted. But the fire vanished quickly, anger draining from both of them. Ginny just seemed exhausted now.

"So...what, then?" Harry asked uncertainly after enough time had g9ne by that he felt it safe to assume she wouldn't pull her wand out.

"We're fighting, Harry," his wife said. "It's what married couples do. I yell, you yell, and we move on with our lives." Unfailingly practical, as usual. Well, she did have the added benefit of observing her parents' marriage for years, while he only had his aunt and uncle to compare.

"All right...I'm going to visit Ron and Hermione. Are you coming?"

"No."

"Okay..." Harry felt awkward in her presence for the first time in a long while. "I love you."

"I love you, too," Ginny replied shortly. "I'll be here when you get back."

Harry Apparated onto the corner nearest their block of flats. It was only a temporary living arrangement until they could find somewhere close to the Burrow. He knocked once, and a moment later found himself crushed in the sort of hug that Molly Weasley always gave, which made you feel simultaneously loved and unable to breathe.

"Harry!" Hermione exclaimed. "Ron, your best friend is here!"

"Hey, mate!" Ron called from another room.

"You look dreadful," she observed after finally releasing him. "Did something happen?"

Harry stared at the floor. "Ginny and I are fighting...apparently."

"Oh. Come inside."

The flat was darkened and quite gloomy until Hermione waved her wand, causing the curtains to slide open, allowing silver light to stream into the small space from outside. Boxes of books cluttered the floor, though some had been magically shrunk to a more practical size.

"My plants are dying," Hermione remarked, sensing that he wasn't quite ready to talk about everything yet. Harry followed her gaze to the listless potted flowers on the windowsill.

"Could you just, I dunno, use magic to keep them alive?" he wondered.

"Of course I could, but there's...something a bit soothing about the muggle way. You know what I mean? Ron thinks I'm utterly mental for watering them instead of casting the Aguamenti charm_._"

"It's not your fault," Harry assured her. "Winter's coming. All the plants are dying."

"You're right. Time just flew by, didn't it? Ron's due to start his Auror training soon."

"That's brilliant, Hermione, really," Harry forced a smile, but it lacked the will to stay for long.

"Yeah, it is. He doubts himself but I knew he'll be great."

"Can I tell you something? I think I made a mistake," he confessed quietly. "I was so in love and honestly just happy to be alive. We thought the next logical step was to get married. Seventeen-years-old, Hermione! Why didn't you tell me how bloody stupid I was being?"

"Because I was too busy marrying Ron," she said. "Listen, Harry, you love Ginny. I know you do. It's been hard on everyone lately with all the funerals and rebuilding. She lost her brother. Remember that."

At that moment, Ron emerged, all smiles and cheer. What did he have to be so cheerful about? He'd lost his brother, too, after all...

)O(

"The food here is wonderful," Luna commented as their plates floated over and came to rest gently on the table.

"You come here often?"

"Oh yes. Mum used to do all the cooking; after she passed away Dad never had much time to learn." She took a bite of her salad and chewed thoughtfully. "He was always a hopelessly poor cook, you see."

"And did your mum teach you...?" Neville drummed his fingers on the tabletop nervously. "I mean, can you cook?"

"I did pick up a few things from watching her, but I was only nine when she died," said Luna, eyes sparkling. She reached out to touch his hand. "Hey, you're doing fine."

Was he? Did people normally discuss the cooking skills of their deceased parents on dates? Neville had never had anyone to help him understand the great mysteries of females, and Luna occupied a league entirely her own anyway. It wasn't the sort of wisdom his grandmother ever thought to impart. He just needed to relax. _Summon your Gryffindor courage, you cowardly lion. She said you're doing fine._

After the meal, when he stood on Luna's front porch, Neville felt unsure of what he was supposed to do or say.

"Would you care to come in?" she offered.

"No, thanks, but I really need to be getting home soon." But he couldn't move. Something seemed undone here. Neville thought he could feel the pressure of his happy ending as it demanded its victims.

"What are you thinking about?"

"That you look most beautiful at twilight." He'd automatically told the truth. "Although I think you look beautiful anytime, of course. You know...dawn, morning, late morning, midday, afternoon, night..."

"Thank you, Neville," Luna smiled. "You look very handsome around the clock as well. I wouldn't mind doing this again. Perhaps next Friday?"

"Oh, um, that's the day I...visit my parents."

After a brief pause, she murmured: "I could go with you. You don't have to be alone. Plus I'd like to meet them."

Neville just nodded in response, overwhelmed by the very idea of anyone wanting to keep him company and meet his parents, especially Luna Lovegood. What happened now? Should he kiss her, or walk away?

The soft, very light press of her lips against his answered that question. It was like being kissed by a butterfly.

)O(

Three hours had gone by since the last time Mother knocked on his door to ask if he needed anything, and two hours since a house elf did the same, which meant that any second now—

"Mistress said young Master hasn't eaten, and told Mitsy to make a plate," squeaked a female house elf. She set the tray down gently on a table beside Draco's bed. Malfoy Manor reminded him of a prison in numerous ways, but at least his bed was more comfortable than that hard cot on which he'd slept while awaiting trial.

"Does young Master require anything else?" the house elf asked eagerly.

Draco thought about it. "Actually, Mitsy, could you bring me today's edition of _The Daily Prophet_?"

"Of course, sir! Right away," Mitsy snapped her fingers and vanished with a loud 'pop' sound. She reappeared in the blink of an eye holding the newspaper.

"You may go now."

Once she was gone, Draco noticed the front page featured a slow-moving picture of he and Mother leaving the Ministry. Was this what life would be for them now? Reporters constantly after a damn story? The headline read:

**DEATH EATER WALKS FREE**

**Draco Malfoy: Reluctant pawn or sly menace?**

It went on to give an account of that day in court, everything he'd said and probably a few things he hadn't, as well as Potter's little speech. Draco couldn't believe someone who was practically an Auror testified on his behalf. Well, everyone word had been true. It certainly didn't make them friends.

So Draco had been on the losing side—the wrong side. At best he expected to be pitied by the wizarding word, and at worst despised, which was exactly what a coward deserved.

_Enough with this self-pity, _growled a thought in his mind that sounded suspiciously like Father's voice.

"Draco?" The door opened slightly, and Narcissa's pale face appeared.

"Yes, Mother?"

"I was able to pull some strings. We can visit your father next week." Being a proud woman, it must kill her that she could no longer use money and status to get whatever she wanted anymore. Then again, what would Draco have done if the Dark Lord had not lost the war and the Ministry still remained under his control? Probably submit himself to a pathetic life of service before the Dark Lord or most likely a lesser pawn killed Draco for being unable to murder some random mudblood.

"That is good news, Mother."

"Yes. Oh, Draco, it's such a relief to have you home! I thought surely both my husband and son would be imprisoned...I've had no one. Bella is dead."

"You know if she were alive, she would kill you," he pointed out logically.

"Don't say that. She loved me."

"She loved the Dark Lord more," Draco said as kindly as he could. "We're traitors now in their eyes, Mother. I imagine Father isn't too happy about it."

The very idea chilled his blood. Did they read _The Daily Prophet _in Azkaban?


	4. Visits & Nightmares

The general feeling in this gray little room was one of hopelessness, although there weren't any Dementors that he could see. In fact, with the Dementors apparently being phased out by the new Minister of Magic, security measures had been increased. Visitors must now undergo a rigorous screening process that took nearly all day, and only then were Draco and his mother permitted to enter the one-way Floo, which sent them directly to Azkaban's unplottable island. Traveling there was purposefully disorienting.

"You have ten minutes," growled a guard. "Not a second more. Bring in the prisoner!"

Narcissa gasped quietly behind Draco, her shaking hand on his shoulder. Lucius Malfoy's clothes were as dull as the rest of this room. He seemed to have aged fifty years in only a few months, but most startling was—

"Lucius, your hair!" Mother exclaimed in horror. Indeed, someone had savagely cut off his long blond hair. It sickened Draco. Snapping the man's wand in half and tattooing an identification number on his neck was something he'd known to expect, but why was _this_necessary?

"Yes, Narcissa, it is not news to me. Draco..." Lucius scowled, turning toward his son. "They gave you a pardon?"

"Three years' probation," he answered in a smaller voice than he'd intended.

"I see. Look at me when I speak to you," Lucius snapped. Draco forced himself to meet those cold eyes, but his father had already turned back to Narcissa. After so many years, he knew when they were ignoring him. His parents spoke in urgent whispers.

"Lucius, are you all right?"

"How could I be? You lied to the Dark Lord!"

"I did it to protect Draco," she said pleadingly.

"But if the Dark Lord had succeeded that night—"

"Honestly, Lucius, the fact that Potter was alive proves there could be no chance of winning that battle. The boy had faced his death willingly, and still the Dark Lord was unable to kill him. It's over, Lucius. The horcruxes are gone. _Voldemort is dead_."

"Dead?" the prisoner scoffed. "You underestimate him, foolish woman! The Dark Lord has cheated death countless times over. When he returns, there will be vengeance. Mark my words. Every mudblood, sympathizer, traitor..." For the first time, there was a flicker of tenderness in his eyes. "I want to keep you from harm. Both of you."

"Oh, Lucius..." Mother began crying in a ladylike fashion. Her husband's denial was so complete; he refused to accept that Voldemort truly ceased to exist. Yet he cared about her and their son; loved, maybe even forgave them. Who knows?

"Time's up," the guard said firmly.

"We'll visit again," Narcissa promised, touching his cheek, trying desperately to remember everything about Lucius.

On the journey home, the world seemed to brighten. Draco wasn't sure if he wanted to go back to Azkaban again. But it was his father, the only one he'd ever have. Anyone could see that these visits destroyed Mother. She longed for her perfect family to be whole once more. Now they were pariahs, and Lucius was delusional. Prison affected a person that way.

So did freedom.

)O(

"We're here to visit Frank and Alice Longbottom, please."

"Identification, please."

Neville handed over his wand to the unfriendly Welcome Witch, and Luna did the same. She gave them back only moments later with a curt nod.

"Very well, Mr. Longbottom, Ms. Lovegood. Fourth floor, tenth ward on the right. I take it you know the way?"

"Yes, ma'am," he said.

The fourth floor of St. Mungo's Hospital was a long-term residence area for those whose brains had been permanently damaged by an irreversible spell. A motherly Healer oversaw the patients living in this ward. She smiled sadly as they went by.

Luna didn't know what to expect, but she kept an open mind. His parents looked like wonderful people. He entered a brightly lit room, somewhat unaware of Luna's presence now. Neville seemed only focused on the room's occupants: a round-faced woman dressed in a red sweater and a pale man with short hair. Neville's parents.

"Hello, Mum," he said loudly in order to get their attention. "Hello, Dad. How are you?"

"Oh, I'm fine." Mrs. Longbottom smiled vaguely.

Mr. Longbottom noticed the other new person in the room. "Who's this?"

"My name is Luna Lovegood, sir. I'm Neville's friend."

Whether his parents processed this information or not they both nodded politely. Mrs. Longbottom reached out and touched Luna's soft hair. Then the former Auror simply stared transfixed at the sight of her color-changing earrings. Neville could tell she loved Luna instantly. He knew his mother was fond of him, though she did not recognize him as her son. His father's grasp on reality was a bit more tenuous; he had taken the brunt of the Cruciatus Curse to protect his wife.

Neville tried to sit there and be strong, but he smiled like someone very close to falling apart. He made a remarkable effort at quiet chatter with his parents, and when it finally became too much, stood up and left the room. After a moment Luna politely excused herself to follow him into the whitewashed corridor. That was where she found Neville, facing away from her, his forehead learning against a wall.

"I don't know what's come over me today," he said, bravely attempting to hold back tears. "I just can't handle seeing them like that. My mum and dad don't even know who I am! Death Eaters tortured them, but they refused to give in. Is it selfish that I sometimes wish they had? This is so much harder than losing someone to death. I used to think one day my parents would get better. What am I gonna do, Luna?"

She placed a hand on his arm. "We'll just have to manage without parents, I think."

"Yeah?" he whispered, turning slowly away from the wall to wrap his arms around her. Luna returned his embrace because they both needed ti so much. Never did it even cross her mind to wonder what happened to that brave man who stood up against the forces of Voldemort's army to avenge his parents and save his friends. She knew. The war happened; it reduced everyone to this strange, raw state of being, their hearts worn on tear-stained sleeves.

They hugged for a long time until, somewhat composed, Neville suggested that they should go back since Frank and Alice probably missed them.

)O(

It had originally been Mad-Eye's idea to take a group picture of the Order before someone died. There he was with Kingsley, Mundungus, and Tonks—her hair this brilliant shade of pinkish gold. Sirius stood beside Remus, both looking worried but cheerful. Mum and Dad were surrounded by their kids, including the twins, who at that time were very much alive without any missing ears. Dumbledore smiled, blue eyes twinkling, and a hand on miserable Snape's shoulder, probably to keep him from running off.

Ron didn't know how it ended up in his possession. He ought to give it to Harry, because obviously he needed something like this more, but he just hadn't yet. Instead he simply tucked the photograph away between the pages of a Quidditch magazine; an ordinary book wouldn't work because of Hermione. Ron wasn't even sure why he felt it necessary to hide the picture at all.

"Ron, did you take your potion?" her voice asked, muffled by the door.

"Yeah, of course," he lied.

A pause, then: "Good. I'm coming to bed soon."

"All right," he said.

Truth be told, he didn't like that potion. The Healers claimed it would help, but it only ever made him feel strange, as if he wasn't himself, and generally not right. When Ron felt sad at least he knew he felt sad. Some bloody potion saying otherwise just got annoying.

He lay down and used his deluminator to turn out the light. Darkness never frightened him anymore...

A few minutes later, Hermione climbed into bed. Ron's back was to her; she moved close to embrace him. Few people in this world knew that she enjoyed cuddling. But sometimes they both needed it.

. . .

_Everyone is dead. Harry's gone. They have Hermione, you have to save Hermione! Can't you hear her scream? But you won't save her. You couldn't then and you can't now, because you are a coward, Ronald Weasley._

_You are a coward who abandoned his family and didn't attend his own brother's funeral._

_No one loves you. She will leave you. They all will._

_It's over. You have lost, Ronald. You—_

_. . ._

Pounding heart? Check. Sweaty? Check. Shaking, concerned wife, couldn't catch his breath...check, check, check. Yep, he was awake. It had been another nightmare. Everything would be fine now.

"You're okay. It's okay, Ron," she soothed, rubbing his back in small circular motions. There was a bright light from the tip of her wand, which Hermione lowered so he'd open his eyes. "You didn't take the potion tonight, did you?"

He shook his head. "Don't like it; makes me feel weird."

"All right, we'll talk about this in the morning. Try to go back to sleep."

As the two lay there in their dark bedroom, Hermione listened until Ron's breathing became even and calm. Slowly, she allowed herself to relax again.

"Love you, 'Mione," he whispered.


	5. Counseling & Decisions

**A/N:** This chapter has caused me a great deal of trouble. I know it seems rush, but I've actually been fiddling with it for more than a week now, and I'm still unhappy with parts of it. Mostly this chapter's purpose is to move the plot along somewhat. Please review anyway.

)O(

The war's end led to a considerable increase of two types of people: unemployable former Death Eaters and Hufflepuff counselors who were eager to help everyone. Hermione didn't know what possessed her to make an appointment with Hannah Abbott, who now managed a decent living as one of those counselors.

"Next is...Mrs. Weasley?" she called uncertainly, looking up from her clipboard. "Oh, Hermione! Hi, it's good to see you again. My office is this way."

The office contained a large window, paintings of flowers swaying in the gentle summer breeze, and two large plumb-colored chairs. Hannah asked if she would like some tea or coffee, but she declined. Once they were both seated, the counselor summoned a quill and parchment; this later caused her to wonder desperately what was being written down.

"If this is uncomfortable at all, just say the word and I'll get someone you to be your counselor, maybe someone you didn't go to school with," Hannah said. "I haven't been doing this for very long, honestly, but you'd be surprised how many people just need someone who can listen. Plus it might be nice talking to someone who was there, instead of a hundred-year-old witch who steals my quills. Sorry, that's my issue. Anyway, I'd understand."

"This will be fine, Hannah, just like talking to a friend," Hermione replied, giving her a smile. "Except I'm paying you."

"First session is free," the Hufflepuff reminded her. "Most witches and wizards still have trouble embracing the idea of working through your problems, believing therapy is for muggles and so forth. Anyway, how are you?"

A simple question, but how long had it been since she had asked herself that?

"Well, Ron started having these awful nightmares. The Healers gave him a potion because he wasn't sleeping, but he says it makes him feel strange and refuses to take it. I don't know how to help him. Then Harry won't talk to me, not like he used to, not really _talk_. He only says things. Something must be wrong but I can't tell what it is..."

The flood of words ran dry as suddenly as it had come. Hermione was shocked.

"I noticed you didn't answer my question," Hannah observed patiently.

"What?"

"You told me everything about those around you and nothing about yourself. I know you care and worry for them, but it's also important to consider your own well being."

Struck by the truth of that statement, Hermione began to cry. It felt like a great weight, this heavy burden she hadn't noticed before, had been lifted off her chest. A handkerchief appeared, and she wiped her eyes, trying to compose herself.

"I'm sorry," she sniffed. "I don't know why..."

"There's no need to apologize," the counselor murmured gently. "You are an intelligent woman, Hermione, but you become so wrapped up in helping the people you love that you forget to ask for help when you need it. I'm glad you're here; I promise to listen and do with whatever I can."

Hannah was amazed once again by how much unsaid and unresolved grief everyone carried around, ignoring all of it until finally they risked a quiet glance inside themselves, then unraveled like sweaters. It was why she took this job. The wizarding world still had a lot of healing left to do, and in some small way she wanted to make things better. Really, her role had become akin to unclogging a drain. It didn't even take much effort on her part because so many of them, like Hermione, were already close to exploding when they came to her.

)O(

Her next patient walked right in, and Hannah checked the list quickly. Draco...Malfoy? Sure enough, he stood stiffly, most likely questioning why he was here. That might be a good place to start.

"Abbott," he said by way of greeting. She offered him a seat, but he insisted he'd much rather stand.

"So, why are you here?"

Draco took a deep breath, as if steeling himself, then begun to pace restlessly. "I can't talk to Mother. I was forced to cut ties with all my friends. I'm starting to realize that there's a very good chance everything I have been raised to believe is completely false, and just my father's old prejudices, who is rotting in Azkaban at this very moment."

Tense silence ensued, during which her quill scratched the words: _guilty conscience_.

"You want a half-blood's advice?" Those venomous words escaped before she could stop them, and immediately she regretted saying that. Although he didn't seem surprised, Draco was looking at her like she had cursed him.

"If I didn't, would I have admitted all that to you just now? Come on, you aren't as naive as we thought, Abbott. _I'm _the blood-traitor! I doubt you can even imagine how many times I wanted to disobey the Dark Lord. I can't look at myself in a mirror anymore, knowing I've tortured people whose only crime was being born."

"Why didn't you defy Voldemort?"

"_Defy_ him? How could I defy the Dark Lord when he'd erase me and everyone I cared about with a mere flick of his wand?" Draco sneered. "I still can't speak his name!"

"He killed my mother," Hannah said after a while.

"Yes, I know. A few Slytherins teased you, right? The difference is: you did something to stop him from killing more people. You joined Potter's little army, fought in the battle, won the war...I lost."

"No one lost or won. I'm alive, you're alive, and that's what matters right now. We have to move forward." It seemed to Malfoy like a disgustingly simple way of putting it. How does one move forward when one's entire family is hated by both sides of a bloody war? How the hell was he supposed to do that with Father locked up and Mother inconsolable? What about now when he couldn't live with himself and no one listened?

"I'm asking you for help, Hannah."

"Look, there's all this bad blood between us. Maybe it's not the best idea..."

"You want nothing to do with me, I get it. I'm so sick of blood," he sighed. "Please?"

And because she had sworn to help everyone she could, and Draco probably needed it more than most, Hannah agreed. They arranged another session for next week, then he left without even saying goodbye.

It was shaping up to be a very strange day for Hannah Abbott.

)O(

"I've decided I'm going back to Hogwarts," Ginny told him. "The repairs are done and they plan to reopen like always. I got this letter saying I am welcome to return, if I want."

Headmistress McGonagall had ultimately announced that, given the circumstances, sixth year students or higher would not be required to finish in order to graduate. It was an option, of course, but no one's last memories of the school were exactly pleasant. Besides, everyone who fought in the battle had more than proven their skill with magic. Defense Against the Dark Arts? They'd faced Death Eaters, for Merlin's sake, and that was a final exam for you.

Harry had received the same letter. He'd spent the majority of last year tracking down and destroying horcruxes. Hermione would probably go back to school, too. Hogwarts still felt like home to him, but he didn't think he could be there like everything was normal. It could never be normal again. Maybe he ought to take Kingsley's not very subtle suggestion and apply for Auror training with Ron.

"Are you listening?"

"Yeah, you said you're going back to school. That's great, Ginny."

"You're a terrible liar," she sighed. "This is best for me, for both of us, in fact. I will go to Hogwarts, and when I come home we can forget that these last few months have been so hard, okay?"

The two promised that when they saw each other after being apart for so long, they would act as proper married people in love. Harry didn't really know precisely what this involved, and maybe neither did she, but whatever they had been doing since the battle obviously wasn't working at all.

"We'll be fine," Harry vowed, squeezing her hand. "It'll just take a little bit more time."

)O(

"Where did you go today?" Ron asked curiously.

"Oh, I had lunch with Ginny," she lied. It wasn't that Hermione felt ashamed of seeing a counselor, but her husband still possessed the emotional range of a teaspoon, and so probably wouldn't understand. Plus she had a reputation to uphold; she ought to be the strong one, always had been. "You know, she plans to return to Hogwarts this year."

"Yeah? That makes sense, I suppose. Has she told Harry yet?"

"I'm not sure." Hermione only knew of Ginny's decision because of previous conversations they'd had, discussing what this all meant and whether their boys could survive without them for that long. "I think perhaps I'll go with her."

He fell silent for a moment. "I figured you might, considering you're Hermione and everything. Don't worry, I'll be okay on my own. The Auror training should keep me busy. It'll give me and Harry time to catch up, too."

"You're really all right with this?"

"Of course I am." Ron smiled slightly. "Anyway, I'd never dream of holding you back from an opportunity to study and have access to a huge library again."

Hermione breathed a sigh of relief. They would be fine.


End file.
